


Not Obsessed.

by AndeliaMaddock



Series: Crowley Collections [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Creepy Crowley, F/M, Het Sex, Moose action, Non-consensual spying, Other, Voyeurism, Wild Moose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndeliaMaddock/pseuds/AndeliaMaddock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moose fascinates, infuriates, disgusts, and arouses him.</p><p>So maybe sometimes he pops in just to bother, whether visible or not. </p><p>A King has to have his hobbies, doesn't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Voyeurism

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the prompt  
> 24\. Voyeurism  
> for the y-gallery 100 sexual themes challenge

Crowley is a man of refined tastes. Most of the time.

But right now, he doesn't mind that that thing he wants most is filthy, depraved, and so incredibly delicious. No, there's a time and a place for wanting things that are clean and sophisticated, and being in a hotel room, watching a newly soul-free Moose going at it with a whore is a bit more pleasurable than pretending to always be fancy.

Not that Moose knows he is there. Not that anyone knows it. It's his dirty little secret that he watches the sleepless bastard going at it with each and every girl who comes his way.

It's not that he's obsessed with the giant or anything, really. He just enjoys seeing what shouldn't be seen. And if he wraps his knowledge up in a snappy little comeback designed more to hurt when that time comes... well, all the better really.

But that's later, and this is now. This is him grunting softly and tugging at his own sizable length while Sam slams into the moaning whore. This is him using his nails to make it hurt, just enough to make it so damn good. This is perfection and violation, and he doesn't know if he will ever let on he can watch them anytime, anywhere, but he figures he might as well keep it to himself for now.

After all, he might be very good at this whole survival thing, but cross the Winchesters too many times, and that survival thing falls apart.

No, he thinks he'll keep this visit, and all the others like it, to himself. But if he ever does reveal it, he'll revel in their faces contorted in rage, and shame, and arousal.

He can picture it. Dean and Sam finally meet up after all those months apart. They fight, they hug, they hold onto the precious thoughts that they are the only ones who they can trust and go off on adventures together. And one day, they cross him the wrong way and he just lets it slip, oh oh yes he does, that he knows what they get down to under the sheets.

They would fight at that, they would want to throw punches. The violation they would feel would be fully palpable and he'd want to scoop it up and just savor it. They would hate him more than they do now.

That's enough for him to spill. He wipes himself clean, tucks in, and moves closer to hear their labored breathing. He doesn't need to see their grand finale, close as it is, though. He had one of his own. No, he's a busy man and he can't spend too much time here as their filthy little voyeur. He has to be on his way.

Until tomorrow, at least, when Sam gets bored and finds another whore to take. Crowley doesn't mind how often Moose goes at it. He just pencils in a bit of alone time, finds a cheap little motel where Sam was staying, and goes to have a peek.


	2. Obsessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only is he not obsessed with Moose, he's not overcompensating. The king of Hell has nothing to overcompensate for!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to the prompt  
> 31\. Obsession  
> of y-gallery's 100 sexual themes. Not a sexual story, just used the prompt for inspiration.

"Why do you even call me Moose?" Sam slammed his laptop shut.

"Why wouldn't I? You're big, hairy, and violent. Like a dumb moose. Personally, I think it's the most fitting nickname, though I like Jolly Green or Giraffe almost as much."

Sam licked his bottom lip and did a short half-laugh while he looked to the side. "Yeah, well, you know at least I'm not nicknamed 'Lucky'. Worst nickname ever." Sam glanced back up.

Crowley narrowed his eyes and strode forward. "For someone who's had such terrible strings of luck, that wouldn't be very fitting."

"Yeah, you're right." He opened his laptop again and logged on. "What are you even here for, Crowley?" Dark eyes kept glancing up, though he kept his body relaxed. As if he wasn't tense and ready to spring at a moments notice.

The demon shrugged. "No reason. Moose."

"Well then you can be on your way, Lucky."

Crowley slammed Sam forward into the table. "Keep that nickname to yourself, you great big giant!"

"How can I, when it's widespread in Hell? All the demons call you it. Behind your back. It goes right over your head, though it's not hard to tell why it does that, is it?" 

Red eyes flashed and Crowley ground his body against Sam's and restrained those damn hands that reached for the demon blade. "Now now, we don't want anyone making mistakes they don't need to." He flung the knife across the room with a twitch of his finger, then brought both of Sam’s hands up to the table, where he pinned them. "How about a truce. You don't call me Lucky, and I don't snap your neck before Dean gets back from that food run he's on, hmm? That's a pretty good deal, I'd say. Keeps you alive and lets me keep both my favorite errand boys alive to fight off our common enemy."

"You know what they say about overcompensating. Anything you want to tell us?"

"Shut your bloody mouth!"

"Of course, you did sell your soul to try and get a full six inches for once, so--"

"Double digits, you overgrown moron! And I'm not overcompensating for anything!"

"Ok, tiny."

"One more name, and I pop you like a cherry. I'm not bluffing, Moose."

"Fine. I'm short on time here, so why don't you tell me why you're even here?"

He could feel the smirk in those words, though the bastard kept an even expression. Sam hadn't technically gone against the command, but Crowley still felt his hands tremble with desire to just break this body dead. He restrained and stepped back. Crowley pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat on his hands off. "It was nothing but a suggestion as to how to deal with the Leviathans. But at this point, I don't know why I would bother."

"Because you obviously need something from us." Sam turned about and fixed that smug look on him. “Like, taking care of a mess you started. Which we’re doing, no real thanks to you.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes in loathing of the great big brute. "Forget it. I don't work with juvenile little whelps."

"Little now? Thought I was a giant? Wanna know what I think?"

"Hardly." He shoved his handkerchief back in his jacket pocket.

"I think you're jealous of me. I'm so tall. Ladies notice. No one notices you, except to be disgusted."

Crowley was going to go back in time, shag Sam's mother, take pictures, and show them off by the next meeting. That is what he would do, damn it all to Hell! "Sticks and stones and all that."

"Right. Well, obviously I'm wrong. Never mind. If you want to give your advice or whatever, feel free." Sam put his hands up and made that dumb contortion in his face that said he didn't believe the first thing. Arrogant smug little shit. Stupid Moose.

Crowley snorted. "Get bent."

"You'd like that."

"Don't tempt me." Crowley made his escape--his exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He'd like to have Moose bent alright.


End file.
